[ Backdated to yesterday, noonish. ]

[wise_ass]

Bert walks out of the sickbay with a small crowd, all of them having been nudged out by the doctors who needed time, space and a piece of silence for their examinations.

In the small waiting area just outside it, the remaining residents of the Proserpina are in varying states of bewilderment, panic and exhaustion. The people they've lost-- all of them, apparently, boasting some kind of magic ability, at least to Bert's limited understanding-- had been all been tracked down and brought into the sickbay; those left standing had done whatever they could to help John, Lauren, and Sherlock hook the patients up to the machines that might be able to save them.

And there's the matter of the clock to contend with, which hasn't disappeared, but just run down to zero.

"Is everyone all right?" he asks of the room at large, breaking up the alternating silence and whispered conversations. Of course they're not all right, but Bert can't stand to worry by himself in silence.

Comments

[good_cop]

"All... right," Sam said, nodding and pursing her lips. "So... d'you remember anything like this ever happening before? Anything abnormal from the station at all? Any sort of precedent for anything that's going on here?"

[withmyshield]

"Usually the attempted murder is more interactive."

There's certainly no shortage of danger and probable death, but it's never been something as insidious as poison. And certainly, they'd be in a much tighter spot if the Proserpina decided to hit them with the other type of crisis now.

[good_cop]

"What about malfunctions? Assuming for a moment this isn't some sort of test or joke on our captor's part, given the alarm bells and emergency procedure and so forth. Has the station had glitches on that scale before? I know about the level five doors, but that's pretty minor by comparison..."

[sharpshooting]

John had gone for a little walk and come upon the group talking. Good a time as any for an update, I suppose. But Sam's train of thought interrupted his own-- here, at least, he could give some useful information.

"There's been nothing on this scale before," he said, sticking his hands in his lab coat pockets. "I've been here eleven months, and from what Sherlock's told me, when they first got here it was like the place was just coming back to life-- they had to work to get the power on, a lot of places were locked down, that kind of thing. The replicators... they've always been the way they are. But there's never been anything accidental that could've killed people."

He had to believe that, at least-- the things they'd endured, all they'd experienced-- it had to be for a reason. It had to mean something... even if he still had no idea what that something was.

[good_cop]

"All right, thanks, Doctor. Any news on the patients?"